Jagged edgesDreams like ghosts escapeI graspmy mind in fragmentsRagingAs if my soul is fled, lost foreverin some dizzying maelstrom of doubtFor what was my essence but its organization?Was I really so devoid of substance?Are these pieces truly meor was their semblance the only structure that propped up the ghost?And I stumble every day, falling, fallingFalling in love, falling for lies, falling out of fortune’s favorI hit the floor and withstood not its unforgiving faceunfit to live, or so it seemedMy form was my function,and neither can be againGive up?Let scattered shards be ground into dust beneath heedless feet?Reclaimed by oblivion until millenia see my moleculestake some foreign formNo legacy, nor even legendGo on?Learn new form, new functionBe repairedrenewedReimagine identityWhat am I but the scars?
The constant breaking and rebuilding and rebreaking?Until the flesh is overshadowed by the molten trails that hold it togetherWhat am I but healing? But the experiences thatshape me, break me, make me question all I knowAs if this mind of malleable clay could claim sentienceHealing does not restoreRepair will never rewindThese heavy circles of the mindever-descending cycles, spirals into madnesswould sway you otherwise, but heed them notForget, forge aheadshards molten, melded in the furnaceEmerge reimaginedburned awaySee these scars shineIlluminateScarlight in this void I call my soulA universe unknownthough I gaze from shallow earth each night,I cannot probe its depthsany more than I can this grave that rejects fragile shell time and againNo shame, not this timeNo longerSee me, hate me, break me againbut I will be, fully, in all my shattered gloryTime marches on, its path permanenceTry as you might, but erasure is irrationalThese trails may be the lines of heartbreak’s storybut their sunlight-gilded edges sing hope’s victoryMoments etched upon my flesh, emblazoneddespite raised eyebrows, razor-murmurs, rumorsMy steps are steadfast, for fate’s pen strokesare a story not of brokenness, but of strengthI am not shattered on ragged cliff-floors, nordespairing in desolation, awaiting demiseWatch me stand, gather the shardspiece by piece reforged, brazed and brazen These eyes no longer shy from yoursThese steps no longer waver I have been through hellrazed and raisedreduced to dust and reconstructedflawed and fire-birthedknown life’s knife, its depth and worthMetamorphosized

Conscience, burned away, refused to speak its own defensebut in riddles circulartill listener and ally alike found nothing but heads in their own assesWhile distant laughter the only telltale sign of fled felonsengorged on the entrails of the facelessThe erasedAs tears melt down cheeks like acidfaces burned by betrayalchildren’s cries sink slowly into earth, heardonly by the ones as powerless as theyThe only ones who would save them
We hear of our own demise too late,for who could see it coming?When sorcerers’ spells and riddleslofty words that are nothing but bullshitevade our understanding, time and againuntil destruction is upon usAnd who ever heeds the prophet’s wordsand dark forebodings?They seem amissin our bliss of ignorancein the sunshine, smooth sailingin the hours before the tempestAnd like the storm,our tormentors pass on to new conquestsand ensuing sunlight only serves to show thatwe again bear the brunt of maliceFor its capacious distension is a safety, of the worst sortand the consequences are but scratches upon the veneerof those too big to hurt, too large to conquer
We want to trustbut perpetually place confidence in deceitFor to be told what to believewhat to valueseems safe, for a timefor that quiet time before the stormAs if absolved from all guiltall responsibility for faulty choicebut on our heads the anvil fallsNot only for our ownBut for every sin.We are the shaky foundationunable to bear the ponderance of evilThe giants’ fall is softened by the snapping of our necksthe skulls of children cracked on city pavement.Blame is the burden of the innocent, once morefor they have no voice to raise, beneath the crushingsuffocation of the respectable scoundrelThe gaslight is the beacon of this corrupt crusade
And then we realizethat all we worked for was a liethat the promised pinnacle of happiness was a monsterThat we become the monster.Consuming ourselves from the insidesselling our soulsbuying them for profitwatching their value rise and fall,DetachedIn this chase, we truly only ever fledRunning for dear death from ourselvesfrom lovefrom everything that ever fucking matteredTill some empty shell,bleeding dust and dollarscrumbled away at the end of the road,shattered into pieces in the dirtWhile far out of time or shadowed memorya soul weepsleft behind in ashesBecause this is the world with no happy endings.All we can hope is to realize that before our heartsbecome too incinerated to feelAll we can do is grow up too soon, forget thedreams that once swelled and sung within a young heartForget the sun’s kiss, the tickling of verdant grassesthe whisper of wind in the leaves, the songs of winged symphoniesthe stars celestial dance, the watercolor sunrise
Or we can get the fuck out.Forsake the furnace in which we are fuelthe streets that are paved with our own souls, trampledthe numbers seared on flesh,commodities to be bought and soldSold a story of our own freedom(if freedom is to choose which way to die)We are the cogs in their machine of warbut we could breathe free air, rather thanthe fumes of our own demiseYou say we are naive, but I would rather bethan deceived, reducedto glassy eyes and ashy faceguarding a cynic’s scarred mindLimited to forging my own shackles, ever lengthening my chainsuntil they eclipse my shrunken souland I cannot release them, for fear of seeing the corpse I have becomeI would rather have peace than successpassion for life than for climbing a ladder to nowhereanonymity than acclaimI would rather be happy

LightCold airThunderous clamorOne moment and no sense can be madeWhat is sense anyway?All you have known is beingExistence free of selfFree of thoughtFree of awarenessNow what?Chaotic knot of flesh and bloodin whirlwind of stimuliBut you learn to weather the stormand when the earth ceases pitching beneath your feetwhen the dancing, ghoulish colors settle into stable formsYou meet yourselffor the very first timeOh, curse and blessing of humanityOnce your eyes have met themselvesthere is no forgettingthe stranger in the mirrorA puppet, a playthinganimated only by you, untouchable but omnipresentnot yet registered as an extensionof your soul, perhapsrightly soDarknessThin airDeafening silenceAs in a vacuumYour lungs a vacuum, but failingFailing to find breathNo air to breathe,or to screamor even to cryIn this moment, this blind moment,what sense can be made?All you know is not beingInvisible, a wraithA wisp about to vanish on a puff of windNo light, no word, not even paincan reach youthough you wish,You dothat it would.NumbCeasing to know yourself, over-acquaintedHaving studied every aspect(so you thought)Abhorring it more each dayWishing it gone,Wasting awaytill perhaps you may be again still, and warmAsh in the womb of the earthBut you are haunted bythat stranger in the mirrorYour jailer, your mockerParasite leeching your lifeblood, omnipresentBut its strength is your own Your hand cannot sever nor starve itYour only companion in this voidTruer than deathFogThick airPhantasmic voicesAll sense you had madeyour solid groundfleeing into the grey unknownEarth convulsing beneath youBeyond sightBeyond feelingas if your very being seeks to abandon youIn this wastelandLosing thoughtLosing awarenessnow flesh and blood melt awayAll the stable forms of your worldDissolve into dancing, ghoulish colorsYou lose yourselffor the very first timeOh, blessing and curse of sightSome part of you, long in slumbersparks alight in exhilarationto burn through the fog and find a wayBut fear clings, the only self you knowwishing once again to close your eyes with its cold fingersInto the comfort of past comaTo forgetThe stranger in the mirrorBeckoner, singersomehow familiar as an old friendbut wild and perilous as the seaand more truly youthan any vestige that clings,DyingRadianceAdventure on the breezeMyriad songs on its wingsSenses alive, overwhelmedbut not in fearAll you know is being,free of what you thoughtYour self wasMore aware than everFlesh and blood fused to earth and skydancing with the stormLosing yourselfFinding more every dayand when you glance behind and seeThe stranger in the mirrorYour ghost, your shellYou wonder that it ever contained youperhaps shed a tear for the years in the darkbut there remains no moment forRegretthe futility of wishing away what wasThis path, paved with broken shardsshaped you, sculptedthis masterpiecegave you the strength to turn your back on

Eyes spark, hearts raceThe bloodshot frenzy, rabid thirstrapidly degrading into guilty horrorThe goreThe open veinsSpirits fly away in the gunsmokeSo many last words
unheardSilent screams, on deaf earsSteely eyes blind, save for the scopeWhere all are prey, dealt deathMere instruments of the world’s puppeteersdeluded by dreams of grandeur and heroismPawns, at the throats of their own kindYouth’s power confoundedIf only we knew our own strengthbut the despots have their uneasy restfor another generation, at leastuntil some wide-eyed, eager hearts are again
ripe for slaughterTo be carved up for the banquet of bloodlustDevoured by vampiric kingsTo stain grasses fed by their fathers’ lifebloodHow long until we stand and defyall that would pit us against our brothers?There is no nobility in the indiscriminate annihilationEach heartbeat silenced is a story endedburned in a heap to warm the feet of the power-crazedThey paint sanguine portraits of strangersteach us the word “enemy”drive love from our heartsuntil fear makes them pump hard and fastforsaking reason and claritybent on destructionThey load us down with burdens of deathto make us forget we can flyreplacing real power with illusory,freedom with deadly toysBut drop the weights, fly away, and look backSee the chaos, the terrorYoung souls who ought to know life’s bounty and adventurecrawling in holes, glancing over shoulder,unable to trust, not even themselvesYou see, from this heightthere is no “good” and “evil”Only liesLies to disempower and destroyConfusion reigning in bright mindswhose flames are all but put outCivilization is suicidalkilling, time and again, its only hopeAnd for what? Petty differencesInculcated with intolerance from the cradleeach innocent mind poisoned, learning to fear the otherrather than rejoice in its beautyBut this depraved destiny,foisted upon us before we could fight backthis bloodbath our inheritance, waging warswe didn’t startagainst those we do not hateasking why in agonyBut silence is our only answeror worsehastily spat generalizationsto drive us back into fearto threaten our illusory securitylest we question once moreSo march on,For the sake of god and king and country,or whatever reason they gave you this timeFor justice, bringing the hammer of vengeanceupon the heads of the innocentwho can make no sense of the brutalityFor peace, for of course it shall only be found in warfareFor honor and duty and glory,Rage against those just like you,whose hearts desire the same as yourswhose ears have heard the same lieswhose eyes wear the same blindersAnd let the tyrants laugh at youin twisted entertainmentGladiators in the ringCaged, escape an illusionfor only Death is promised to all

Spectators, silentWitness to the sufferingShying from the oathWe prefer to abdicate our consciencesand numbanesthetize our actionsDon blinders as we rampageseeing only the scorein the sport we make of existenceBlissfully ignorantSo they saySo we repeatSo we don’t see the truthSo we don’t break beneathGuilt’s loadBut this is an ignorance of willof animal fearunable to peeraround our shieldsSee the lightSee ourselvesOnce such glaring reality assaultsour sheltered retinasCallous heartsThere is no going backbut we are incapable of going forwardOr so we believeswallowing the liehook, line, sinkertill snared on the lines they feed uschoking on the barb lodged in our throatunable to cry for helpor speak out against evilSilent screams are all that remainfrozen in some grotesque pleaCrumbling statues, whose ruinsshall be humanity’s only grim monumentThe silencersThe silencedThe silent

Tattoos on my soulSo foreign, yet so much apart of meyes, they healbut forever leave their mark, yet

they do not define mefor beneath the inked chroniclelies blood and boneheaving lungs, beating heartThough they have shaped methough I be judged daily by countlessStrange eyesthey are not the sum of myBeing, but whenis peace?When is healing?Perhaps when I can rememberwithout tearsbut I don’t think this pang shall ever leavePerhapsthat is no wrong, butStill…

I shudder too oftenat memory’s catlike approach, so softit seems, untilthe clawsThough that time was once my homeit remains notnor shouldAll things have their time and placebut my stubborn heart would

Clingto circumstantial happinessSo many hours wasted on “what ifthis had not changed?” but what ifit had remained?Cheating loss and heartbreak, whatmight I have missed?No telling, nor regainingOnly the next footstep,and the nextThough fog obscure the way
each guide has its timehowever long or fleetingBut they all are deadand gone, to meNo fountain of tears shall

Resurrectthem, but I may rise from theAshesof my incinerated soulAnd learn to live again.